


Debris

by amuk



Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Healing, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 17:17:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amuk/pseuds/amuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She is a duck. It’s hard to remember that sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Debris

**Author's Note:**

> Set after the series.

Duck. She stares at her reflection in the clear water, at the bright orange beak and the yellow feathers. She is a duck. Her webbed toes stick into the mud as she peers down at the pond. This is what she should be.

 

But even thinking these thoughts doesn’t make her a duck. At least not a proper duck, like the ones mating and feeding around her. They don’t look at their reflection constantly. They don’t spend the day in their nest and the evening in a human home.

 

It’s a little harder to see her reflection now and she quacks when she stares up at the sky. It’s getting late and Fakir was bound to leave soon enough. Springing into the water, she paddles furiously as she returns to the dock.

 

Ahiru is not a proper duck, but that doesn’t make her entirely a human girl either. Human girls don’t like green shoots or building nests. Or the way that the mud sinks into her toes when she waddles. She had spent a year or so as a human—the memories are fuzzy, hard to form, when did the girl start? When did she live in the dorm, when did she make friends? It is hard to discern reality from the fake memories and she doesn’t bother to try anymore.

 

“Ahiru?”

 

“Quack, quack, quuuaaacckkk!”

 

The dock is almost in front of her and she can see Fakir sitting on his chair, crumpled balls littered around him. He stands, the ink and paper molting off him, and gives a smile when he catches his figure.

 

“We’ll be leaving soon,” he softly informs her, and she knows that today is quiet day. The magic is gone, the pen only writing stories, and despite his attempts he cannot seem to find the power to make her a girl again.

 

 _It’s fine_ , she would like to say. _I was a duck before._ She is a duck after. The human part was a dream in-between. A long, good dream, but a dream nonetheless.

 

“M—” And he stops himself before he can finish that thought. “I need to finish cleaning,” he says instead and turns away.

 

It is hard to remember sometimes that Mythos isn’t around. That Rue is gone and there are no strange creatures in the town. Hard and painful. Ahiru loves prince. Loved the prince. She can’t discern if it is past or present tense, his smile still in her mind sometimes.

 

It’s hard to forget love and his memories are clear in her mind. Sharp and distinct and his choice echoes loudly through them all.

 

At least he is happy. At least Rue is saved. At least the problems were solved.

 

At least—(and Ahiru is not a bitter person, but heartbreak is hard to get over. Especially if you’re a duck. Ducks weren’t meant for heartbreak or dancing or long goodbyes.)

 

“You should get out now.”

 

At least Fakir is with her. She smiles—can ducks smile? In her mind, there is a human with long red hair and the quirk of her lips is the twist of her beak.

 

“I’m making—” he stops, pausing as he picks up the crushed ideas. He’s awkward, even now that she’s a duck. His face is easy to read— _Can she eat it?_ —and she quacks an eager assent. Flustered, he mumbles about dinner before finishing his task.

 

She can get used to this life. The pond is longer than the one she almost drowned in, long and shiny and she glides through it like a knife. This is her stage now. Ahiru had never been graceful and Princess Tutu was ever elegant in her strides. Neither can match her here, her body attuned to the slight changes in the water.

 

Neither, but as she gets out of the water, shaking her tail-feathers dry, she can still feel the arch of her back. Phantom limbs stretch up, shoes pointed as she twirls across the cobbled street. A bend and she jumps, only to trip over webbed feet and too-short legs. Crashing into the ground, Ahiru lies there a beat before getting up.

 

She knew how to dance, once.

 

It is this memory she finds the hardest to let go.


End file.
